


Jaded Angel

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Out of Character, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Slash, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-10
Updated: 2005-05-27
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Two years after defeating Voldemort and graduating Hogwarts, Harry returns to Hogsmeade in disguise.  How does his long-time enemy Draco Malfoy know he's there?  Why does he pay Harry a secret visit?~ Rating it M for sexual content and personal harm.~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.





	1. On My Pillow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Harry overlooked the town of Hogsmeade, laying gentle in the sun below the beginnings of the hilly land beyond its boundaries. It had been two years since he had left, two years since graduation, two years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In that last year, before Harry finally put ‘paid’ to the evil schemer’s plans, he had come to a grudging appreciation of the skills and power of his adversary. Now it was he, instead of Snape, who insisted on the title.

Two years seemed like barely any time at all. Yet Harry saw changes. Flower boxes bloomed at the edge of the pavements, and down the middle of the high street. A fresh  
coat of white paint had been applied to the public buildings while in the housing areas, bright colours dominated the sun-filled scene. Pink or green or blue houses rested beside  
red and yellow umbrellas shading tables in the yards. Curtains in the various house colours of Hogwarts fluttered out of windows. Flowers nodded rainbow-shaded heads in  
the old-fashioned gardens clustered around the homes.

Harry had come partially in disguise. His glasses were in his bag, his hair had been charmed to hide his scar, and he wore contact lenses which changed his eyes to a buttery  
brown. He straightened his robes and continued down the trail until he set foot on the cobbled street.

People looked, they thought they knew, they turned away. Harry Potter had a scar and emerald eyes. Harry Potter wore glasses; this stranger merely resembled him. Harry  
charmed his palate to approximate a highland brogue and walked into the Hogshead.

“I believe you have a room for Ranaigh MacDurrow?” he said in his unfamiliar brogue. The girl used her wand to turn the register around without taking her eyes from her reading.

Harry signed the register and took his key. He went up to the highest room in the place. Once inside, he laid back on the bed and watched a bird soaring outside his window.

He hadn’t been there long when there was a sharp knock and a charwoman with ragged blond hair came in, dragging a bucket. Harry propped himself up on his elbow. “Occupied,” he said.

The door clicked shut and the charwoman turned around, transforming into an elegant, gaunt man. Harry sat up, startled. He thought at first the man was becoming Lucius  
Malfoy. But the transformation did not go in that direction. Instead of aquiline features, the sharply pleasing face of Draco Malfoy appeared.

Harry’s wand was instantly in his hand.

Malfoy eyed the wand with hooded lids. The tip of his tongue wet the hollow of his lip. He reached for the clasp of his cloak and shed it. Then he fell to his knees.

Harry backed up on the bed. Malfoy’s eyes were still ravishing his wand. The blond leaned forward and caught the bed frame with his hands. The wand touched his cheek.   
He closed his eyes in rapture.

“Malfoy...” Harry began, but the Slytherin didn’t seem to hear. He turned his head, mouth slack, following the wand with his face. When he reached the tip, he closed his  
mouth around it and drew it as deep as he could.

When he could get the wand no deeper, Malfoy moaned. Harry felt the vibrations trembling up his arm. A soft grunt escaped Malfoy’s throat. His lips parted and he  
swirled his tongue back along the wooden shaft.

As the tip left his mouth, Malfoy’s face contorted and he gasped out a sob. His fingers clutched at Harry’s hands and he kissed the length of the wand until he was desperately  
kissing Harry’s fingers.

Harry gaped at his former enemy, unable to move. His robes stirred against his growing erection. Malfoy’s fingers sizzled on his arms. Harry rasped his dry tongue across his  
lips.

“What are you doing?” He nearly choked at the desert that was now his throat. He tried to push the blond away, but was suddenly too weak. Every drop of blood was pulsing  
into his cock.

Malfoy’s knee was on the mattress. He pushed Harry down, bringing his other leg up to straddle Harry’s thighs. His fingers unclasped Harry’s robes and spread them apart.

Harry wore a tee-shirt and a pair of peg-legged trousers under his robes. Malfoy unfastened the trousers and pulled them down, teasing the skin of Harry’s thighs with his  
fingertips. A groan caught in Harry’s throat. He didn’t know why Malfoy was doing this, and he no longer cared.

The soft hands of Draco Malfoy trembled as he cupped Harry’s erection between them. His eyes were closed, his brows knit low over the bridge of his nose. His sharp, short  
breath was misting Harry’s tip in sultry moisture. Harry choked as the soft breath haunted him. Malfoy’s mouth opened and he gasped around Harry’s cock.

“Harry,” Draco whispered before his tongue began to trace a swirl down Harry’s shaft.

Harry couldn’t help but move. His hips rocked hypnotically as Malfoy’s lips assuaged him. His eyes flew open as pliant fingers ringed the top of his sac. His head was at the  
back of Malfoy’s throat and Malfoy swallowed. Harry gripped the counterpane and thrust.

Malfoy raised his head, his eyes softly open, and crawled up Harry’s body to his face. He stroked the fringe of Harry’s coarse black hair away from his forehead. He held Harry’s  
head between his palms and bent his tongue to the smooth scar. A jolt burst through Harry’s body as the firm tip of Draco’s tongue ran down the jagged lightning course. He  
could feel energy flow between them as the pressure increased.

“Harry!” Draco moaned, moving his lips to Harry’s mouth. Their tongues entwined as Draco’s robes dragged across Harry’s thighs. Harry felt their breeze on his swollen  
member.

Draco left Harry’s mouth and slid his tongue down Harry’s neck, stopping at its base to feather lightly toward his shoulder. Then he continued, down Harry’s chest, down the  
raw flesh of his stomach, to his cock again.

The blond hair was like cornsilk in Harry’s fingers. “Don’t stop,” he tried to say. Instead, a moan, a long, protracted “Ohh!” shuddered from his chest.

Malfoy’s mouth descended again and again, his lips embracing Harry’s shaft. He was maddeningly slow. Harry whimpered in exquisite torment.

“I swallow,” Draco said, raising his face, “Or I can take it up the ass.”

Choices! Harry raked his fingers down his neck, then sat up and pulled Draco’s face to his. He kissed him, plunging his tongue in as far as he could, leaning Draco back onto  
the bed. Draco’s cock was hard inside his robes. Harry ripped them open. He tore the silky trousers down his lover’s legs. He pushed Draco’s knees apart and buried his face  
between them, his tongue tracing Draco’s quivering hole.

One finger pressed against the puckered opening. Draco gasped. Harry measured two, then three fingers and forced them inside.

He twisted his hand so his fingers could massage Malfoy’s prostate. “Potter!” Malfoy choked. Harry raised his head and nipped the skin of Draco’s balls.

Malfoy was gagging, grabbing at the blankets. Harry nipped along the ridge at the back of Draco’s shaft. His teeth grazed the rim below the moaning boy’s head then plunged  
his tongue into the dripping opening. Rending sobs tore from Draco’s throat. Harry squeezed his shaft and sucked.

Not yet! Harry pulled away, leaving the blond moaning. He forced his legs apart as far as they would go and ran his tongue around his hole again. Draco shivered. Harry forced  
him onto his stomach.

He tilted Draco’s hips, then ran his cock along his slit, stopping to tease his opening. Draco moaned into the counterpane as Harry continued to stroke down to his balls, then back again.

He teased him again, pushing his tip gently at the hole, then drawing out. Draco coughed. Harry lightly fingered Draco’s balls, then fluted up his cock. The pale Malfoy hips were rocking back and forth.

Harry traced his nail along Draco’s tip, then ran its razor edge along its margin. He massaged the taut ridge gently, down to Draco’s balls. His entire body quivered.

Now, Harry thought. His cock was resting at Draco’s hole. He reached around the ivory hips and clutched his cock. He thrust, forcing his erection deep inside his lover, choking  
as his muscles closed around him.

Harry thrust into Draco as Draco thrust into Harry’s hand. Harry bent his head and nipped at Draco’s side. He reached for Draco’s weeping tip and smeared the semen down his shaft.

Malfoy’s body convulsed. Harry felt the throbbing of his cock inside his fist. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. He grabbed Draco’s hips and pulled him back, feeling his cum shooting into the tight box.

Draco Malfoy collapsed on the bed, his body heaving as he gulped in air. Harry Potter pulled at the shoulder-length blond hair and pulled Draco’s head up.

“Why?” he breathed into Draco’s ear, “And how did you find me?”

Draco turned over, his stomach smeared with his own cum. “I knew you were going to be here, I only had to wait until you arrived. As for why...”

He shook his head. His eyes drifted down to the spread, wrinkled with their coupling. Harry ran deceptively gentle fingers down the wizard’s cheeks, then forced his eyes back  
to his own.

“Because... You’re Harry Potter. You killed the Dark Lord. You freed me...”

Tears pricked the silver eyes. The mouth hung slack. Harry leaned close and kissed him softly.

“Because I love you...”

“Draco...”

“I know you’ll never love me, Potter. There’s too much that’s gone bad between us. I just wanted you to know...” he sighed “...that I appreciate you, that I love you...”

Draco charmed his trousers back onto his sleek legs and slid off the bed. He raised his head regally and regarded Harry with cool grey eyes. “Don’t bother seeing me out. I can  
find the way.” His mouth turned up into a mirthless smile. “If you ever do think of me, call me your angel.” He opened the door and left.

Harry lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Draco Malfoy! Maybe not the best he’d ever had, but if he wasn’t, Harry didn’t know who was...

Down on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a charwoman with scraggly blond hair threw a noose over a branch and stood on top of her mop bucket. With her eyes fastened to the highest window of the Hogshead Inn, she kicked the bucket away.


	2. In The Morning

  
Author's notes: Harry meets with Minerva and learns about another dimension; Lucius and Draco discuss the future; Severus visits Lucius after Draco goes to bed.  
~Mentions self-harm and sexual situations.  
~All characters belong to JK Rowling and everyone she designates.  


* * *

Jaded Angel  
~  
In The Morning

Ranaigh MacDurrow thought he wanted to be alone with his memories. Until Draco  
came in, Ranaigh MacDurrow had been in danger of becoming an old sot. He spent too  
many nights in the Leaky Cauldron and various anonymous Muggle dives for the few  
friends he had left to think otherwise. Even though he nursed two or possibly three  
drinks through an entire evening, Percy was always reminding him that it wasn’t the  
quantity, it was the needy regularity that made an alcoholic. ‘Ranaigh MacDurrow’ tried  
to accept the advice in good humour, but it just wasn’t right, coming from Percy.

It would have sounded better from Hermione. And it might have done, if Hermione  
hadn’t been in the long-term ward at St. Mungo’s. It wasn’t her mind so much: there  
were times when she was typically Hermione. But those times were few and far between.   
Usually, she just stared, or bounded joyfully through the ward repeating nonsense phrases  
which had certain static answers to them. Occasionally, once in a great while, she would  
be startled out of her monotonous complacency and beat her head into a wall or try to  
attack one of the sisters.

One reason Ranaigh drank.

One reason why Ranaigh might have been drinking since opening that morning, if it  
hadn’t been for Draco Malfoy. Instead, he was enjoying a full English breakfast,  
complete with cold meats, rashers, eggs, and anything else the kitchen might graciously  
throw his way. He drowned it all in cups of searing coffee, black and strong and suited to  
match the energy he felt. He might take a step and accidentally leap over the inn, he was  
in such high spirits.

Percy would be pleased. At least Percy wouldn’t say much beyond noting the change in  
appetite and encouraging more of it. Ranaigh propped himself on his elbows and traced  
his fork in the air as he chewed. Percy had been there for him, when everything went  
black. Who would have thought the prat had been a spy all along?

Percy at the ministry, poking his snooty nose into everyone’s affairs, carrying tales to the  
Minister of Magic, whoever that notable might be that year. From his first day with  
Fudge, to his current incarnation as Private ( _very_ private!) Secretary to Minister Jerusha  
Hollowby, Percy had been gathering data and filing it away for later use. Not that it was  
all honourable, heavens, no! Percy meant to get ahead. Yet when it came down to the  
clinch, his poking about had stirred enough of a nest that when Dumbledore needed  
names of possible Voldemort adherents in the Ministry, Percy was right there with a  
frighteningly accurate roster.

But, enough about Percy. Ranaigh was grateful for the man’s steadfastness, even from  
afar as it were. He was still a depressing specimen. Ranaigh cleaned his plate, downed  
the rest of his coffee, and went outside into the late summer sun.

The path to Hogwarts was dusty and well-remembered. Harry cast off the taciturn visage  
of Ranaigh MacDurrow and became himself again, himself the way he used to be. A  
glint of emerald in his eye, a carefree spring in his step, he made his way through the  
gates of his old school and around the lake.

“Harry!”

Harry knew that voice. Reubeus Hagrid was waving from a stand of reeds, his trousers  
rolled up and his legs ankle-deep in the mucky shore water, fussing about with  
something. He finished what he was doing and set it lose. A paper boat floated out onto  
the water, its frail sail capturing the gentle breeze.

“Hey! That’s great, Hagrid!” Harry beamed, joining him at the water’s edge.

“No use in havin’ magic if ye ain’t allowed to use it. Right? Pr’fessor McGonagall’s  
waitin’ for you.” He started to lead Harry up the grassy slope.

“Are you going to leave your boat?”

Hagrid turned around and watched it as it sailed. “It’ll be there when I get back.”

The castle was as cool as ever, its stones breathing out thin, earth-tinged air. Professor  
McGonagall was pacing in the entryway, clasping and unclasping her hands as she  
watched them making their way across the courtyard. Harry grabbed her hands and bent  
down to kiss her paling cheek. She fussed like a schoolgirl, then set her prim mask  
firmly into place.

“I’m glad you could come, Mr. Potter. There are many things to tell you. Hagrid, you  
might accompany us, or not as you see fit.”

Hagrid shrugged then rubbed the back of his neck. “I got some things to do at the  
corrals,” he rumbled, and turned away.

Harry offered McGonagall his arm and they walked under the ancient stones, up the  
timeless stairways, to the entrance to the headmistress’s tower. “Lutefisk,” she said, and  
the griffin moved away to reveal the staircase.

The office was much as it had been all through Harry’s schooling. Mysterious silver  
instruments did... whatever it was they did with or without Albus Dumbledore. Portraits  
on the walls held whispered conversations at their entrance. The biggest difference was  
the portrait of Dumbledore himself, looking down on his old chair, and smiling fondly at  
his protegee Minerva. She nodded curtly and he winked.

“You are looking better than I had expected.” A tea service appeared on her desk. “Tell  
me how you’ve been these last two years.”

~*~

As dusk settled over the forest road, the knot of the noose unwound and a red-faced  
young man fell sputtering to the ground. His body shuddered involuntarily as his  
engorged cock rubbed against his silken trousers. Dirt flew into his mouth as he inhaled  
and he spit it out.

A dark-robed man flitted from amongst the trees and knelt by his son. Lucius Malfoy  
rolled Draco onto his arm and smoothed the hair from the corners of his mouth. “Did  
you see him?”

The silver eyes struggled open and Draco nodded.

Lucius held him tighter, an anxious expression on his face. “Did he...” he breathed   
“...have you?”

Draco winced and nodded again. His trembling fingers sought the edge of his father’s  
cloak and lightly fingered the soft material. “He... I think... Will it hurt?”

A slender hand stroked the pale hair, then caressed the flushing cheek. “Shh,” Lucius  
whispered as his lips sought Draco’s forehead. “It isn’t bad, not afterwards. You’ll  
hardly remember the pain. Once your child is in your arms, it all seems worth it.”

“You won’t be ashamed?”

“Of you? Oh, darling, never! Can you stand?”

Father helped son to unsteady feet. Lucius pulled the rope from the tree and coiled it  
around his neck. One heavy end dragged down his back, a pale marker on a sea of  
Slytherin green. Behind him, a whirl of wind erased the place where he and Draco had  
huddled on the roadway.

 

Draco Malfoy drank the soup from the wide-mouthed cup then wiped the moustache off  
with a napkin. “Their Draco... He was horrible, Father! The worst, the most evil... I’m  
surprised Potter didn’t hex me out of existence when I showed up in his rooms.”

“Exactly what was so bad?” Lucius sat across from him, listening to his report.

“He hated... hates... Potter. For destroying the Dark Lord.”

Lucius gasped. His eyes took in the familiar face and body of his son. How could  
something so pure and beautiful be infused with hate? He had no doubt the Draco  
Malfoy in the other dimension matched his own son in beauty. But, what form of  
ugliness would that wondrous face take when twisted in evil?

“I almost didn’t do it. What if Potter finds _his_ Draco and believes he is me? He might be  
killed.”

Lucius understood that. He also understood that he might have lost his only son had  
Potter been less circumspect with his wand. There was no time for regret nor sympathy.   
“At least his child will live.”

Draco shook his head. Lucius knew the concept of alternative universes took some time  
in getting used to without all the other minor but amazingly major differences. And poor  
Draco had been thrown head-first into the stew.

“I felt so cheap! He...” Draco bowed his head over the empty cup. “He... managed me  
as well.”

Lucius forced his mouth to remain shut. Such a thing was never done in polite circles. It  
was either one or the other, never both. Of course, this Potter couldn’t know that. He  
took a breath and schooled his features before Draco saw his shock.

It was a good thing he’d managed to control himself. Draco raised his head. “He was...  
kind.”

“I’m glad, for your sake. He might have been brutal.”

Draco threw his head back and closed his eyes, the red weal of the rope still in evidence.   
Lucius made a mental note to lock the boy away for a few days, until the proof of his  
duplicity faded.

There was a sound outside. Mercury met quicksilver across the table. Draco grabbed at  
his throat and leaped up, searching desperately for a way out of the kitchen. Lucius had  
to intervene. He shoved him through the servants’ entrance and heard him clatter up the  
back stairs as he whisked the cup from the table and sluiced it clean in the sink. He only  
had time to put a drying spell on it before the door burst open.

Lucius dropped to his knees, his head bowed, his magnificent platinum hair curtaining  
his face. Heavy boots strode across the floor and stopped in front of him. Lucius hated  
the sound; he hated the silence afterwards, worse.

He knew what he must do. His fingers gently lifted the hem of the robes before him and  
he kissed the cold, dark fabric. He waited, tensely, to see if any poison had been added.   
When his lips didn’t burn and his tongue didn’t swell, his mind rejoiced.

Long fingers wrapped themselves in his hair. He was forced to an appropriate height and  
he opened the black trousers.

“You are eager, my love,” the silky voice crooned as Lucius took the lengthening  
member in his mouth. The slender hips moved with him, and he remembered why he  
had loved.

Lucius stroked his master with every fibre of his being, allowing the memories of his first  
passion overtake him. His master remembered too. Their coupling was soft and lazy, the  
way Lucius preferred, until the very last, when the stream of his lover’s cum shot into his  
throat.

The man dropped to his knees and caressed Lucius’s face. Thin lips pressed against his.   
When they parted, Lucius felt himself falling into the black, eternal gaze.

“Where is your son, Lucius?” Severus asked.

“I sent him to bed. When I heard you, I’d hoped...”

The intake of breath over Severus’s teeth shot desire through his core. He didn’t care  
what Severus would do. He was only there to please.

~*~

“Do we all have counterparts in this other dimension?” Harry asked, eyeing the device  
on Minerva’s desk.

“Yes. There is, or there was, a Harry Potter, a Minerva McGonagall, a... a Hermione  
Granger...”

Their eyes met for a moment in mutual grief. Harry nodded. “So, we do, or we did, all  
have alternate selves.”

“Yes. And usually, we are able to complete our life-tasks before death, in all dimensions.   
However, one Voldemort discovered how to best one Harry Potter, which has led to some  
problems in resolving the worlds.”

Harry thought about Draco Malfoy. Exactly why had he behaved so strangely?


	3. Of Darkness

  
Author's notes: Harry journeys to the dimension where evil reigns. Yet, evil no longer has a recognisable face. Who are his friends? More, who are his enemies, as the worlds diverge?  
~ Rated for het non-con and bondage.  
~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.  


* * *

Jaded Angel  
~  
Of Darkness

“We have discovered, for only the third time in Hogwarts history, that our counterpart in  
a different world is in need of our assistance.” McGonagall touched the silver instrument  
in the centre of her desk. “This device allows the headmaster, or headmistress as the  
case may be, to contact other... how should I put this?”

“Dimensions?” Harry suggested helpfully. He had seen more than his share of alternate  
dimension films in the two years since he had defeated Voldemort. Sometimes, it was  
just good to drink into near oblivion then render the escape complete with a bout of  
fantasy.

She considered, then nodded in acceptance.

“So, Hermione...”

“She may be the same as our Hermione, or she may be well, or dead. In the world which  
has contacted me, I only know that Albus is still alive, and that you...”

Harry made a conciliatory face. It was awkward hearing about his own death, even if it  
wasn’t exactly he who had died.

“The other Albus will be contacting us. You will go with him. I wish I could accompany  
you, but I am afraid that is impossible. I need to prepare for the upcoming school year.”

The odd device began to glow. McGonagall stopped mid-thought and watched as  
suddenly, the head of Albus Dumbledore appeared amongst the shiny sticks and boxes  
which looked more like an abstract sculpture than a form of communication. The old  
wizard extended his hand to Harry’s, and he found himself turning to wind and being  
drawn into the device.

 

They were in a spartan room behind the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore took that  
dimension’s version of the same device and brought it back to the office, then conjured  
up a tea service and offered Harry some tea. There were cakes and biscuits and  
miniscule sandwiches to tempt him. Harry ate very well.

“Your counterpart in this world should not have died. I contacted several of my own  
counterparts, discovering each time that I should not have lived, but you should have. I  
know you have gone through a rough time already, and I am sorry to have to bring this  
demand. But it is your world’s turn to assist a fellow, therefore, you must be our new  
champion.”

“You take turns with things like this?”

“It is the only way to ensure that no one world bears the brunt for the others. More tea?”

“Thank you, yes. Is Voldemort in power, then?”

“I am afraid so.”

Dumbledore snapped his fingers and Professor Snape appeared from the shadows of the  
adjoining room. Harry was used to Snape’s malicious presence, but this Snape was truly  
frightening. His robes were more luxurious, disguising his thin figure in a way that made  
him seem over-muscled and even more imposing. A heavy scar ran from the corner of  
his eye to his jaw, pulling the eye downward in a perpetual glare. His hair was slicked  
down until it clung to his scalp like a tight-fitting hood, its ends clinging to his neck. His  
mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he glared down at Harry.

“Severus, take our guest to the dungeons. Put him in chains.”

Harry went for his wand, then found he couldn’t move.

Snape inclined his head toward Dumbledore. “As you wish, Master.” He withdrew his  
wand from his sleeve and Harry found he had limited mobility. They left the  
headmaster’s office.

A stray house elf scurried out of their way as they headed for the dungeons. Harry’s arms  
still wouldn’t move. They bypassed the classroom door and plunged deeper into the  
twisting and turning labrynth of cells and secret chambers. At last, a door flung open  
before them and Snape led him into a semi-dirt-walled room with chains hanging down  
from the stone above.

“Harry!”

Harry’s heart stood still. That was Hermione’s voice! He tried to turn toward the sound,  
but couldn’t. Snape kicked him in the ass and he went sprawling.

“Traitor!” Hermione shrieked and Harry heard the clink of chains.

He raised himself, glad for the use of his arms again, and shook the dust from his head.   
Hermione was in a darkened corner, her arms loosely chained to the ceiling above her.   
Snape was standing with his back toward Harry, caressing the girl as she struggled to  
back away from him.

Harry was about to hex this alternate Snape. If Dumbledore was evil, then so was he.   
But Snape gestured and Harry couldn’t get his hand into his robes.

“You do not even know who she considers to be the ‘traitor’,” Snape’s silky voice  
admonished him.

“It’s both of you,” Hermione answered, her voice leaden with hate. “I thought you were  
dead,” she said, softer now, but still with a touch of disgust. “How could you have  
turned dark? How could you?”

Harry looked from Hermione to Snape. The witch glared at him, nearly spitting; Snape  
simply regarded him with distaste.

“It is quite common to imagine our counterparts as having the same feelings and  
emotions as ourselves,” Snape drawled, “Your Minerva assumed that, since your  
Dumbledore was on the side of good, that ours would be as well.”

“What about you?” Harry asked.

“I?” The dark brow quirked upward. “I serve two masters.”

“Which is your true allegiance?”

The heavily-robed wizard turned and took Hermione into his embrace. His kiss was  
passionate, though practiced, and his hands roamed her body too freely. Harry got to his  
feet, but his legs were weighted down. He staggered to the corner of the room and  
collapsed against the dungeon wall.

Hermione was struggling. Harry lurched away from the wall and plowed into Snape.   
The wizard was off his balance for only a moment before he folded Harry into his strong  
arms and began to kiss and fondle him.

“Gerroff!” Harry gasped, pushing away. The black robes, hanging straight from Snape’s  
wrists to the ground below, were suffocating him. And where he might have found air,  
he found Snape’s mouth, stealing the air out of his own. In any other circumstances,  
Harry knew he would have enjoyed the attention. In this case, the smooth kisses  
reminded him of Dementors.

“What did you do?” Hermione spat, “Raise him from the dead?”

Snape ignored her, shoving Harry up against the wall. Cushioned hips ground against his  
own as Harry struggled not to succumb to the suave seduction.

Chains rattled. “Are you going to have us both?”

“Thank you for your considerate offer. I believe I shall.”

“You horrible, rude, disgusting...”

Snape’s tongue plunged into Harry’s mouth. His hands stroked Harry’s crotch, his back,  
his neck and thighs. Harry’s head was light. He was rising to the bait. He had never  
imagined Snape...

“Which of you shall it be?” Snape purred. He suddenly stepped back, leaving Harry  
mourning for his warmth. “Or perhaps, I shall impregnate you both.”

“You can’t do that!” Harry stared from Snape to Hermione. “Men, wizards, can’t get  
pregnant.”

“Oh?” Snape’s brows arched. “In your world, perhaps?”

“Yes. In my world.” Harry realised that it might not be the same in this world.

“Then there’s no point in shagging you. Though, I will take your devotion, later.”

“What do you mean, in his world?”

Though she recoiled from Snape’s touch, her interest was piqued. This was the  
Hermione Harry knew, thirsting for knowledge even in the face of danger. Figuring out  
the way things worked, studying, succeeding.

His mind went to the other Hermione, trapped in her perpetual violent twilight, and he  
mourned. He turned away as Snape lowered this Hermione’s trousers and knickers and  
opened his robes. She wasn’t the same witch, but she was, in an odd and fundamental  
way.

She screamed. Harry turned around. Snape had her against him, her feet making bulges  
against the inside of his robes in back as she was bounced against the tall man’s hips.   
Her chains rattled, her shoulders jerked as Snape pulled her far enough away from her  
starting point to tighten the chains.

Harry couldn’t move. Snape must have placed a charm on him while they were  
snogging. “You can’t,” Harry groaned, resting back against the earthen wall, “Our  
Hermione isn’t pregnant!”

Snape’s face was twisted in ecstatic determination. He pulled Hermione to him and  
kissed her, her arms stretching out behind her in what looked to Harry to be a very  
painful pose. Gutteral shrieks issued from her throat as her attacker completed the act.   
Snape stepped back, his shoulders heaving, and Hermione slithered down his legs to  
stand once again on the dungeon floor.

“There is no reason why your Miss Granger could not become pregnant, is there?” Snape  
asked.

“She’s not herself. Her mind was destroyed...”

“But her body was intact?” Snape waved his hand, stirring the air beside his face. “It  
hardly matters any more. We have diverged significantly as it is. I do not understand  
why our worlds should always be so in tune with each other.”

He turned to Harry, his breathing stilled, his demeanour calm. Harry stood his ground.   
Snape drew his wand and pointed it at Harry. A sluggish whirl of memories began before  
he could push them away.

It only took a moment before Harry’s mind was guarded. But it was enough to satisfy  
Snape. He turned to Hermione and arrogantly stroked her cheek. “This Potter is no  
traitor.”

Her breath was coming in short gasps. She was going to cry. Her face dissolved into  
tears and Snape embraced her, this time soothing her. She hung her head and Snape  
turned away.

“Tomorrow, Mr. Potter, I shall take you to meet the head of the resistance.”

He jerked Harry forward and clamped his wrists into some manacles dangling nearby.   
Then with a sweep of his heavy robes, he left the prison.


	4. Of Light

  
Author's notes: Draco reflects on his future as Lucius is forced to sell him to Snape.  
~Rated for forced servitude, violence, and mentions of MPreg.  
~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.  


* * *

Jaded Angel  
~  
Of Light

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed in his room and stared out the window at a bird flying past.   
It had been two days since his return from the other world and his father had confined  
him to the house until the marks on his neck were healed. He hadn’t realised the severity  
of the lashing until the healing creams took this long to make them vanish.

His father said that slower healing was the first sign, a very good sign that the mating had  
been successful.

Poor dear, sweet and honourable Harry Potter! His counterpart was so like him; and yet,  
there was still something of the innocence left in the counterpart which had completely  
abandoned the original.

It had been the summer between their fifth and sixth years when Harry had fallen prey to  
the Weasleys. Draco had been forced to visit his ailing grandmother, and wasn’t there  
for Harry when he needed him the most. When they finally did meet, at Diagon Alley  
after they had received their lists for the upcoming year, Harry had merely turned away  
and strutted down the street with his new friends. Draco’s throat tightened with the  
memory.

And now...

He heard a swish, the almost silent sound of an accomplished Apparator down in the  
copse of trees. He tumbled off his bed and hurried to the window, but all he saw was the  
flash of a cloak disappearing around the back of the house.

Snape.

Draco’s hands trembled on the sill. Lord Dumbledore’s enforcer, his father’s lover.   
Snape had approached Lucius several times asking to purchase Draco for his own. He  
wanted to breed with the boy, he had told his lover, but Draco’s father would never give  
in.

Draco was glad. They had thought Snape to be on their side in the war, but now that it  
was over and Lord Dumbledore had won, Snape had taken his place alongside the Dark  
Lord.

There were noises downstairs. Draco heard voices at the bottom of the servants’ stairs,  
then pounding footsteps. He had no time to leave the window when his door burst open  
and Snape strode in.

He did not stop in the doorway. He covered the distance between Draco and the door and  
slapped Draco’s face, making him stagger. Draco grabbed the corner of his desk and  
glared up at Snape, tears stinging his eyes.

“Whore!” Snape bellowed, and slapped Draco to the floor. He moved his foot as if to  
kick him, but Lucius flew to stand in front of Draco, daring the dark man to strike him  
instead.

“Please, Master! Do not hurt him! He carries our only hope!”

Snape moved his arm and Lucius gasped, bending forward as his master squeezed his  
groin. When Lucius was on his knees, Snape forced him to look up into his eyes. He  
stroked the luxuriant hair with his black-gloved hand, then bent to kiss him.

Draco didn’t dare move. Snape was angry, he had found out about their deception. As  
he watched, his father slumped to the floor from the poisoned kiss and lay as still as  
death.

“So you thought you could recapture what you’d had, did you, whore?” Snape stood over  
Draco, his legs apart, glaring down. Draco didn’t know how to answer, so he blinked up  
at the man who had been his uncle as a child, then his mentor, then his enemy. Those  
hard boots were uncomfortably close. Would his face be smashed beyond repair?

“I could give you a potion to rip it out of you, but I do not think I shall.” Snape reached  
down and helped Draco to his feet. “At least you chose the right Potter.”

Draco cast a glance down at his father, still and fragile on the floor. He waited until a  
small breath raised the green-clad chest, then turned back to Snape. “Sir?”

“You went to the right world. That is the Potter Lord Dumbledore has sent for, and  
imprisoned in his dungeons.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he backed away from the gloating man. Snape took his face  
and caressed it. Draco bumped against the wall. With no place else to go, he knew that  
if Snape kissed him, he would be unconscious on the floor as well.

“Are you afraid, my pretty swan?”

Draco nodded.

“Don’t be.”

Snape released him then strode to the centre of the room. Sunlight washed over him and  
disappeared in the blackness of his robes. “Shall I bring your Potter to you?”

“You’re a traitor,” Draco said.

“No.” Snape sighed, and suddenly, the weight of the long years of war were pressing on him. His scar seemed brighter. “I serve my conscience, as does your father. Lord  
Dumbledore shall not succeed.”

“Then, why?”

“Someone must be on the inside. Someone must be there to gather information. I am the  
logical one; he trusts me.”

“Then, you..?”

“Yes. I am the one who gives Wormtail his intelligence. Though the rat doesn’t know.   
He suspects Lupin, but Lupin is faithful to his dark master.” The mouth curled. “As is  
Black.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because you dared to contact the other Potter. That shows an inordinate amount of  
bravery on your part. Or stupidity. But either way, I know that you will never betray our  
cause. Your bonding to the righteous Potter would prevent that. And I wish to have your  
good will.”

“My father will never sell me.”

“He will. If he doesn’t, I shall take you. My loathsome master in his tower will award  
you to me if I ask.”

“What about my child?”

“I shall claim it, of course. You foolish boy! Do you believe for one second that it will  
live if the Dark Lord even suspects it is _his_?”

“But...”

“I will teach him Occlumency, an oversight on our part with his father. He shall learn the  
arcane arts. And his wand will be the most powerful in the Wizarding World, for I will  
teach him its uses myself.”

Lucius was groaning. Snape stepped around his twitching form and held Draco to him.   
“I will pay your slave-price today, my swan, or you shall be my dark master’s gift.”

“Master,” Lucius gasped, rolling to his stomach and seizing Snape’s robes. Snape  
released Draco and turned for his lover’s obeisance.

“Rise, my love, and grant me my desire. I would buy your son for his price.”

Lucius stood, his face working. “You know his condition, my master.”

“I am willing to claim it. Potter’s hair is black like mine. None shall be the wiser.”

The truth was dawning. Lucius stared, a smile threatening his face. Snape scowled and  
turned away.

“Then, we still have hope!”

“Yes.” Snape turned to Draco. “My payment will be forthcoming, this evening at the  
latest. I shall take him now.”

Draco flew to his father’s arms and was crushed to his chest. “Don’t cry, Father. I’ll  
go.”

“I wish I could be there for you, Son.”

“How touching. You may send his things later. He will have little use for clothes right  
now. Draco! Come!”

 

The prison’s door flew open and banged against the wall. Hermione jerked awake.   
Harry squinted into the dusty sunlight shafting through the grate high in the wall and saw  
the pale golden head of Draco Malfoy just before he fell to the floor. Snape stalked in  
behind him and unlocked Harry’s chains.

“I have brought you a present,” he said, indicating the slender wraith on the floor. “I  
believe you have already met. You must have frightened him when you drew your wand  
on him. Wands are restricted here.”

Harry looked down at the blond, who turned his head away. A blush spread over his  
shoulders and his upper back.

“This is the creature you bred in Hogsmeade.”

Harry gaped at Snape. “I... what?”

“Did you have sex with him? Did you penetrate him?”

“Er, yes.” Harry blushed.

“You manipulated him as well, if I found the correct memories.”

Hermione gasped. The wizard on the floor cringed.

“I, er, made sure he, er...”

“A grievous social error, Potter. You suggested he was loose.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know!”

“Then, apologise to him. I do not care for my property to be abused in such a manner.”

Harry’s temper began to rise. “What do you mean, your property? You mean, he’s your  
slave?”

“As of this morning. Well? You’re free. Apologise to my whore!”

Harry scrambled over the ground and touched Draco’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about, well,  
what I did. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Draco was crying softly, his tears dropping into the dust. Harry wasn’t sure what he  
should do. He had never been confronted with anyone like this before, someone who was  
probably going to have his child, and boughten slave. As he studied Draco’s face, he saw  
faint bruises in the shape of a hand.

“Did he hurt you? I’ll...”

“No. My master could never hurt me. I’m all right, Potter.”

“You’ve done enough, Potter,” Snape said. “Get away from him.”

Snape took Draco to the chains where Harry had been, and chained him. Then he turned  
to Harry.

“I promised that I would take you to the resistance. Let’s go.”

“Draco, I’m so sorry!” Hermione was saying as the heavy oaken door closed. Snape led  
Harry through a hidden tunnel into the Forbidden Forest.


	5. Guardian

  
Author's notes: Harry is taken to a secret place in the Forbidden Forest where he meets members of the Resistance. But there are secrets none of them can know. ~Rated for violent tendencies and character debasement.  


* * *

Characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastic Books, and others approved by JKR.

* * *

Jaded Angel  
~  
Guardian

 

“Hold, Humans!”

A phalanx of centaurs blocked their path. They were dressed in gleaming mail and  
helmets, their backs covered in rich brocade blankets emblazoned with crests. Quivers  
hung from their shoulders and each had drawn a pale-tipped arrow and affixed them to  
their bows.

“Do not prevent our passage, Horse-men,” Snape warned them. He fingered the wand in  
his hand. “I am no mere peasant that my magic cannot be directed.”

“There are four of us and only two of you, Human,” the centaur with the white-gold  
fringe twining down from his helmet, told him.

Immediately, two centaurs collapsed to their knees, their bows forgotten as their fingers  
tried to remove the invisible hands from about their throats.

The other two centaurs pranced nervously.

“I am Dumbledore’s Enforcer,” Snape said with a cruel smile.

The effect these words had on the centaurs was absolute. The two who had fallen  
staggered to their hooves and they all moved farther up the path. The white-crested  
leader turned.

“Dumbledore promised us this forest.”

“This portion of the forest, you mean. We do not wish to disturb your colony, we merely  
seek passage through.”

“Pass, then, Enforcer.”

Snape led Harry past the centaurs and toward a brighter spot in the forbidding wood. The  
ground began to rise and soon they were walking up a winding path toward a ruined  
mound in the side of a hill. Snape gestured at a cavernous entrance and Harry slid in.

He found himself in a nearly buried chamber. Baskets sat in the darker corners away  
from the entrance. There was an old but heavy table across from the light. Snape  
entered and lifted a dusty tapestry, revealing a passage.

They had to crawl on their bellies to get through the culvert. They entered a second  
chamber, this one slightly higher than the first. An altar was cut into the wall at the far  
end, its top strewn with the charred remnants of a fire. Another culvert at the far end led  
into yet another room which was higher still, and so, on until they reached the sixth  
chamber.

The earthen floor sloped sharply downward to a high pair of beaten copper doors. Snape  
withdrew his wand and called, “Alohamora!”

The doors swung inward.

The floor of the hallway was a short drop from the chamber floor. Harry jumped, then  
heard Snape follow. “Go on,” Snape said, prodding at Harry’s back with his wand.   
Behind them, the large doors slowly closed.

The seventh chamber was octagonal and painted with continually moving murals  
depicting deeds of knightly bravery. A basin gushed in the centre of the room, its waters  
trickling over its edges into a slot around its base. Torches lit the room, leaving the  
gallery beyond it in heavy shadow. Harry looked around him in fascination. _Was  
there something like this in his own Forbidden Forest?_

“This was once the Hall of the Knights of Hog’s Hill,” a husky voice informed him.   
Someone moved in the shadows of the gallery and Percy Weasley stepped into the light.

No matter which dimension he was in, Percy looked every bit the prat. His hauteur was  
only outdone by Snape’s, who appeared to be Percy’s idol. His cool gaze warmed and  
brightened when he saw the other man. Snape didn’t seem to care for him.

Percy was regarding Harry now, his head thrown back, his red hair darkly glinting in the  
flickering light of the torches. He moved at on odd angle, leading with his left shoulder,  
his left arm crooked and held across his lower chest. His cape, a rich, dark velvet, hung  
off his right shoulder, flowing behind him like a scarf. His step was measured.

“He does look very like,” he nodded once, stopping so that Harry got a good look up his  
nose.

“In all effects, he is. With one notable exception: He is alive.”

“Is he a Splinch?”

“Of course.” Snape’s voice was barely ironic. Harry could feel, rather than hear, the  
sarcasm. Percy didn’t seem to notice. He just smirked and turned to walk along the  
muralled walls.

He stepped up onto a dais fitted into the wall. There should have been thrones, Harry  
thought. Instead, there was only prissy Percy, standing below a faded mural of a knight  
wrestling a lion.

“Hog’s Hill Hall once guarded the town of Hogsmeade from the denizens of the  
Forbidden Forest, before the treaties which left things as they were before Lord  
Dumbledore’s ascention. Upon the signing of the treaties, the Hall was left to its fate, as  
the artificial hill upon whose side it had been built, slowly eroded, eventually burying the  
Hall. The knights were disbanded. We are the spiritual descendants of those knights, the  
guardians of right and of tradition. Our leader...”

“Spare me, Weasley,” Snape growled.

“Oh. Of course, my lord. Page! Refreshments!”

“What’s a Splinch?” Harry asked Snape while Percy fussed at the cringing blob of  
humanity who appeared from somewhere in the shadows of the gallery.

“Don’t you know?”

“It’s a division that can happen if you Apparate wrong. Besides that...”

“The noun, Splinch, is the magically completed leavings of the verb, to Splinch.” Snape  
watched Percy from under veiled lids. “There are not many who know about the various  
worlds. I do not intend for Percy Weasley to number among them. So, if he offers a  
solution to your arrival himself, I will not dissuade him. He believes he has enough  
power as it is.”

“And he doesn’t?”

“He is a toy. For both sides. But he has his uses beyond the obvious.”

“He’s a spy.”

“Yes.”

Just like the other Percy. Only not quite the mother hen.

The ragged bulk who had been the subject of Percy’s frustrations skittered across the  
stone floor toward Snape and Harry, offering a bowl of fruit. Harry automatically  
reached for his wand but Snape stopped him. The lowly figure fell to his knees and  
raised the bowl in shaking hands.

“My lords.”

Snape removed a pear and took a bite. Harry followed suit with an apple. The figure  
was still crouching. Snape raised one booted foot and shoved the young man’s shoulder.   
The ovoid body fell to its side spilling fruit all about the chamber.

“Oaf,” Snape spat, and the creature righted itself and began to reach for the fruit.

Harry stared at the crouching young man. If he put on another few stone, he would be the  
image of Harry’s cousin Dudley, who was currently serving time in prison for assault.   
This person, though, could never have assaulted anyone. He was too meek.

He seemed to feel Harry’s eyes on the back of his neck. He turned his head. His eyes  
squinted in fear as he flinched under Harry’s attention.

Snape sneered. “You are a clumsey oaf, Dursley, a shame to your lineage.”

Dudley prostrated himself.

“This... Splinch.” Percy strolled out from under the gallery roof again and stopped with  
his foot on Dudley’s trembling hand. “What are his powers? Will he suit us as our  
champion?”

“I shall test him myself once we have left this place. Be advised, Mr. Weasley, no matter  
what his powers may or may not be, he is the only one who can lift this curse. It was he  
who was foretold by the Prophet. Only he can kill the one who marked him.”

“But, he’s a Splinch!”

Snape grabbed the back of Percy’s neck and jerked him into his body. “He is all we  
have. And we are fortunate he came to be. Thank your lucky stars that he is with us, and  
pray to all the Powers you hold dear, that this time, the Light shall succeed.”

Percy’s mouth hung open and his eyes had grown wide. He nodded, then Snape flung  
him to the floor. He slid off Dudley’s leg and Harry heard a crack. Dudley gave a shriek,  
then bunched his shoulders to his body.

“My lord.”

Lucius Malfoy rushed out of the shadows and landed on his knees in front of Snape. He  
touched his forehead to the stones and grasped the hem of Snape’s robes.

“What is it, my love?” Snape’s voice caressed the words.

“I believe the Muggle is injured.”

“Do you?”

Harry looked at Dudley’s leg, which was laying at an unnatural angle.

“Yes, master. May I have leave to heal him?”

Snape growled impatiently. “You may.”

Lucius felt along Dudley’s body to his hip, then his long, graceful fingers groped down  
his leg. Dudley whimpered, then he groaned. Malfoy raised slightly to reach into his  
robes.

Holding his head down again, he made his way back to Dudley’s head. It was difficult to  
work in such a posture, but he finally succeeded in feeding Dudley the draught. A  
shudder ran through Dudley’s body, as if a sheet had been shaken out.

The leg was straight.

“Weasley. Goyle. Remove the Muggle.”

Percy stood, and another figure rushed out of the gallery. Between them, Percy and  
Goyle moved Dudley away, and through a briefly well-lit door. Malfoy waited on the  
floor.

“You may see to him again in an hour, Lucius. In the meantime, prepare the report. I  
shall take it to our true master.”

 

Harry never did see the other people in the gallery. Once Snape had the report in his  
hands, they left the Hall. They passed through the centaurs’ lands without challenge and  
were soon back at the hidden entrance to the castle dungeons.

“There is a secret none of them can ever know,” Snape said as they slipped through the  
postern, “Voldemort is dead.”

“Then, who’s leading them?”

Snape removed the papers from the packet and began to read them.


End file.
